“Here he is,” he announced.

A slender figure sitting bolt upright in a large grandfather-chair turned at their entrance, and revealed to the astonished Mr. Chalk the expressive features of Miss Selina Vickers; facing her at the opposite side of the room Mr. Stobell, palpably ruffled, eyed her balefully.

“This is a new client of mine,” said Tredgold, indicating Miss Vickers.

[Illustration:  “‘This is a new client of mine,’ said Tredgold.”]

Mr. Chalk said “Good evening.”

“I tried to get a word with you last night,” said Miss Vickers.  “I was down at the bottom of your garden whistling for over ten minutes as hard as I could whistle.  I wonder you didn’t hear me.”

“Hear you!” cried Mr. Chalk, guiltily conscious of a feeling of disappointment quite beyond his control.  “What do you mean by coming and whistling for me, eh?  What do you mean by it?”

“I wanted to see you private,” said Miss Vickers, calmly, “but it’s just as well.  I went and saw Mr. Tredgold this morning instead.”

“On a matter of business,” said Mr. Tredgold, looking at her.  “She came to me, as one of the ordinary public, about some—­ha—­land she’s interested in.”

“An island,” corroborated Miss Vickers.

Mr. Chalk took a chair and looked round in amazement.  “What, another?” he said, faintly.

Mr. Tredgold coughed.  “My client is not a rich woman,” he began.

“Chalk knows that,” interrupted Mr. Stobell.  “The airs and graces that girl will give herself if you go on like that——­”

“But she has some property there which she is anxious to obtain,” continued Mr. Tredgold, with a warning glance at the speaker.  “That being so——­”

“Make him wish he may die first,” interposed Miss Vickers, briskly.

“Yes, yes; that’s all right,” said Tredgold, meeting Mr. Chalk’s startled gaze.

“It will be when he’s done it,” retorted the determined Miss Vickers.

“It’s a secret,” explained Mr. Tredgold, addressing his staring friend.  “And you must swear to keep it if it’s told you.  That’s what she means.  I’ve had to and so has Stobell.”

A fierce grunt from Mr. Stobell, who was still suffering from the remembrance of an indignity against which he had protested in vain, came as confirmation.  Then the marvelling Mr. Chalk rose, and instructed by Miss Vickers took an oath, the efficacy of which consisted in a fervent hope that he might die if he broke it.

“But what’s it all about?” he inquired, plaintively.

Mr. Tredgold conferred with Miss Vickers, and that lady, after a moment’s hesitation, drew a folded paper from her bosom and beckoned to Mr. Chalk.  With a cry of amazement he recognised the identical map of Bowers’s Island, which he had last seen in the hands of its namesake.  It was impossible to mistake it, although an attempt to take it in his hand was promptly frustrated by the owner.